


Scenario 9

by rideswraptors



Series: Kastle Scenarios [9]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, see first work for warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:18:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: Karen’s kidnappers try to negotiate.





	Scenario 9

Karen was shoved down into a chair, the mask pulled from her eyes. She had to squint against the sudden brightness, but at least the handcuffs were removed from her wrists. She immediately rubbed them and looked around. She was seated in a luxurious, modern office overlooking Manhattan, across from Quentin Drake, founder and owner of Drake, Inc. Karen had tried to interview him several times regarding the sex trafficking she (with the help of a few superhuman friends) had uncovered. It was going to print in the next edition. He really was handling this shit at the eleventh hour. 

 

“Miss Page,” he greeted levelly, a fake smile plastered on his lips, “pleasure to see you again.” 

 

“The pleasure is definitely all yours. I will have you charged with kidnapping, just so you know.” 

 

He leaned forward, hands clasping on his desk. “Ah, about that. Firstly, I wanted to extend my apologies at my men’s rough treatment of you during your commute here.” 

 

She snorted. “Apology not accepted asshole.” 

 

“Right,” Drake sighed, “naturally, you’re upset. However, I think we can work out a mutually beneficial arrangement.” 

 

“I’m not pulling the article. You can forget about that.” 

 

He held up a hand in defeat, “Rightly so. Free press and all that. Unfortunately, we have a much more  _ complex _ predicament on our hands.” She frowned when he stood. “Drink?” Karen shook her head no. “You see, I was not the one who arranged for you to be taken. That would be one of my overzealous subordinates. Jeffrey Palmer.” He smiled at her thinly, “He’s no longer with us.” Karen’s blood ran cold and she got the chills down her arms. 

 

“Evidently,” Drake continued, “that is all thanks to a good friend of yours?” He put a hand to a file folder on his desk and pushed it towards her. “I believe you’ll recognize his work.” 

 

Confused and hesitating, Karen reached to open the file folder. There were five pictures. Five men. Five very dead men, each of them shot once in the face and piled on top of each other in an alley. 

 

“These were sent to me not ten minutes before you were escorted out of your home. So, you see, I had not much time to make arrangements, and as it was, I supposed there was a way to make best of the situation?” He perched a hip on his desk and spread his arms. “Miss Page, I have to assume that you are a reasonable type of person--”

 

Karen laughed. Short, sharp, and hollow. Reasonable, he said. She tossed the folder onto the desk, away from her.

 

“You want me to call him off.” 

 

Drake blanched, but didn’t stop smiling at her. “To say the least.” 

 

Karen crossed her arms and considered him. Watching him squirm for real was probably the highlight of her week. Her month, maybe. Because now the article would definitely come out and the evidence would be handed over to the police before midnight which would launch a full criminal investigation that would bury him. And even still, Quentin Drake feared the Punisher more than he feared federal prison. She smirked to herself; Frank wouldn’t let prison stop him from going after someone who tried to hurt her. 

 

“What makes you believe that he isn’t already here?” she asked wryly. “If he discovered the plan before I was even taken, what makes you think you’re not in his sights right this very second?” 

 

A shot came through the window, shattering the glass and burying itself into the wall to their right. Karen shut her eyes to it while everyone else in the room dropped to the floor, shouting. She opened her eyes slowly, looking straight ahead, the smell of plaster overwhelming her nostrils. 

 

“That was a warning,” Karen drawled, bored now. What kind of operation was he running that Frank could unravel his stupid plot so quickly? She rolled her eyes. Of course, she already knew the answer to that question. Frank knew where she was because he’d implanted a tracker in her arm. Frank knew she was going to be taken because he’d been out every night trying to figure out who was behind the threats being sent to her home. Not who they were  _ because of _ , but who was actually doing it. Someone had ratted Palmer out, who ratted out the next guy, and he called Micro to get a trace on her. And now, all six men in that room were going to die.

 

If she let them. 

 

“The next shot means one of you die. Trust me, he doesn’t miss.” 

 

“Call him off!” Drake begged. Karen stood and went to lock the door. None of them were leaving until she was satisfied. 

 

“Not just yet.” She went over to him, curled up on the floor, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. She heard the rustle of someone getting up from the floor. Then another shot. Then a body hitting the ground. Karen had to take a steadying breath and told herself that the man had made a choice. And he chose to contend with the Punisher. So she kept on with her plan.

 

She pulled up a voice recording website, which would be sent right to her cloud and Ellison for safekeeping. 

 

“Now, if we’re done fucking around,” she said snidely, kneeling down in front of Drake, who was still sniveling. Terrified. “You’re going to tell me every detail of your sex trafficking operation. Every single detail. And then? I’m going to walk out of here. Untouched. Tomorrow morning, you’re going to be picked up by the police, and your whole world is going to crumble around you.” 

 

He sneered up at her. “And if I don’t?” 

 

“Then you’ll die. Right here. And I’ll ask that gentleman over there.” She pointed to another man in a suit, who was outright sobbing. “See what he has to say. Then we’ll go one by one until  _ somebody  _ tells me what I want to know.” 

 

“Fine! Fuck you, fine! Stupid bitch--”

 

Another shot fired and the bullet landed in the guy’s leg. He screamed out, flesh singing and blood dripping down fluidly. 

 

“Damn it,” she sighed. At least it was just his leg. “Look, my man out there? He really doesn’t like people being rude to me. To women in general, but me specifically. So, if we want to get out of here without more bloodshed, and trust me I do, we should probably find a way to be civil.” 

 

He gritted his teeth at her viciously but nodded anyway.

 

“Good. Start at the beginning.” 

 

*

 

When Karen was walking out, four men in custodial uniforms were walking in. She’d seen them a few times before, always there to help clean up Frank’s mess when it came to delicate situations. One was a medical professional who would probably stitch up Drake and make sure he didn’t talk. Frank never told her how he knew these people or where they came from, but they were certainly reliable. 

 

Before she could react, she was getting swept up in a tight hug and kissed furiously. Karen recognized the body against hers, the taste and the smell of him, without having to see him. Frank kissed her a little too desperately, probably trying to reassure himself that she was whole and real. Karen gentled him, clutching his face, and slowing their kiss. 

 

“I’m okay,” she said, pulling back to breathe. He was immediately following her, lips chasing hers. She let him take what he needed. “They didn’t hurt me,” she swore against his lips. “I’m okay.”

 

“Shit, I couldn’t get to you.” 

 

She pressed their faces together, swaying a little in his embrace. “Well, that’s why I agreed to the tracker, remember?” 

 

“ _ Fuck _ .”

 

“Shh, shh, shh, you got me. I’m okay.” 

 

Frank took a few shaky breaths, seeming to come back to himself. He pulled back, one arm still around her and batted at the few streaks of tears on his face. Karen used her fingers to brush them away. He cleared his throat.

 

“Got your phone?” She shook her head. “Take mine.” He fished his out of his pocket. “Call your boss. Tell him you’re taking the week off.”

 

“The week?” she repeated, incredulous. 

 

“The  _ week _ , Karen, and then we’re going to the cabin and staying there until this blows over. When we get back, I’m moving in. No more arguments.” 

 

“Frank, I need to work.”

 

“That’s why Lieberman put fiber optic in the cabin.” 

 

“I need--”

 

He dropped his forehead to hers again, hands gripping her arms tight.

 

“Karen, please.  _ Please _ .”

 

She inhaled slowly and tilted her head to kiss his cheek. 

 

“Okay, okay. Counteroffer. I go into work tomorrow. Square things with Ellison and the police. And then,” she kissed him once more, “I’ll take off two weeks. We’ll go to the cabin, and we’ll start looking for a new place. One that meets all of your standards.” 

 

He tucked her into the crook of his elbow and kissed her slow and deep, tongue thrusting into her mouth and drawing a sigh from her. 

 

“Thank you,” he breathed into her mouth. “Thank you.” 

  
  



End file.
